Dark Over Moon
by Ceri Moriarty
Summary: A conflict between two opposing groups. A friendship tearing apart at the seams. And behind it all, a desire to make things right. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this if you want._

_I told you last chapter that the prologue and the first chapter had little to no relation to each other. You will see that this is true._

_These lovlies aren't mine. Many thanks to my fabulous cousin **Taaya** for prodding me into writing/posting this!_

_I'm actually kind of nervous about posting this. I hope you all like it! Please tell me what you think!_

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

The boy stared blankly at the rising sun as the dawn breeze ruffled his longish blue hair. He tugged his knees to his chest for just a tiny bit more warmth—the chilly pavement had sapped most of the heat from his eleven-year-old body. Absently, he wondered if he'd be able to find his way back home—it seemed unlikely, since he saw no familiar landmarks anywhere. He knew he shouldn't have run so far last night, but running was so _fun_ that he'd completely lost any common sense he possessed.

He heard footsteps coming around the corner, most likely around five or six people, but ignored them. Probably just a group of friends coming home from a night on the town or something. He stared blankly at his knees, knowing that they'd just pass him by.

He was proven wrong on both counts when the footsteps paused just before him. He glanced up and saw a group of boys, the eldest around fourteen and the youngest maybe a year older than him.

One of them stepped forward. Though not the oldest of the group, he was clearly the leader. He had strangely white hair and amber eyes that matched the younger boy's own.

"I'm Xemnas. What are you doing out and about so late—or, rather, so early?" he asked.

The blue-haired boy met his gaze calmly. "I'm lost," he answered flatly.

Xemnas smiled. "Is that so?"

The blue-haired boy nodded mutely. He wasn't sure about this Xemnas person. He seemed friendly, but so did a lot of other people, including his current set of foster parents. Thinking of them, he wasn't so sure he _wanted_ to find his way back home.

"In that case, would you like to come along with me and my friends? I assure you, we're quite friendly. What's your name, anyway?"

"It's Isa," the boy in question answered quietly. "And I don't particularly mind being lost. It's not like I have much of a place to return to." Why had he said so much?

Xemnas turned to his friends. "Does anyone have any objections to Isa here joining us?"

Head-shakes and blank stares all 'round. Xemnas turned back to Isa.

"Welcome, then…Saïx," he declared, holding out his hand. The newly-named boy took it and was pulled to his feet.

Saïx, recently Isa, stared at the group he was now apparently a part of. One by one, at their leader's command, the boys introduced themselves: Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion.

Saïx's mind flashed to his friend Lea, back at the foster home. "I have a friend," he began cautiously.

Xemnas turned to him. "And? Did you want to invite them to join us or something?"

Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his leader's shoes, Saïx nodded.

"We don't need more people," Xigbar objected.

Xemnas shrugged. "We'll see. Number VII, is your friend useful?"

Saïx looked confused by the method of address.

"We're also called by numbers," Zexion explained. "For example, I'm Number VI. Xemnas is Number I. You're the seventh member to join our group, thus Number VII."

"I see. Yes, he is useful," Saïx answered. "He has a sort of…_flare_ for lighting things on fire."

Vexen scoffed. "That's not useful, that's just destructive."

Xigbar shrugged. "It could be useful. Fire is very warm, after all."

"No duh." Xaldin rolled his eyes.

"Let's not bicker amongst ourselves," Xemnas soothed. "Number IV, sometimes useful and destructive are one and the same. Number II…don't state the obvious. Number III, there's no need to be sarcastic. Now, I am your leader, so I make all of the decisions, yes? And I have decided that we _do_ need more people, and this friend of Number VII's sounds…interesting, if nothing else. Number VII, can you lead us there?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Saïx answered. "As I said before, I'm lost. I seem to have gotten turned around somehow, and I have no recognition of this part of town. I apologise, sir. Perhaps if I saw a familiar landmark, I would be more able to locate my previous place of residence."

Xigbar muttered something uncomplimentary relating to long words and the people who used them. Saïx flashed him a death glare and a quiet growl, but backed down when Xemnas shot him a warning glance.

"That can be arranged," Xemnas said calmly, ignoring Xigbar's irritated mutterings. "Lexaeus knows this city like the back of his hand."

Lexaeus shrugged. "I'm a competent navigator," he admitted, "though I'll need a place to begin—or, rather, a destination."

"The park at the corner of 12th and Starstruck," Saïx answered immediately. He knew he'd be able to find his way from there. "Thank you," he added belatedly.

"It's no difficulty," Xemnas assured him. "Which way, Number V?"

Lexaeus closed his eyes briefly, then pointed. "That way."

XIII

The smell of smoke was detectable from the park, at least to Saïx's keen nose. He didn't mention it, thinking it was just another of Lea's pranks.

When the cloud of smoke became visible, still several blocks away from the house, Saïx started to worry. He broke into a run, not even particularly caring if the other boys followed or not.

When he arrived at the place where the house should be, he saw only a pile of charred rubble and ash. His eyes widened.

"Lea!" he called, running towards the wreckage as fast as his legs would carry him. "Lea!" He knew his friend was there—Lea's scent hung in the air, and there was very little of the coppery tang that meant blood.

"Isa?" a voice called faintly back. Lea's voice. "Is that you? Where were you this morning? Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's me, I was taking a walk, and I'm perfectly fine, Where are you?" Saïx responded.

"I'm stuck under this stupid board!" Lea called. "Just look for red hair. Got it memorised?"

"This is no time for your lame catchphrase!" Saïx yelled. "Now shut up a moment." He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint Lea's location. Once he'd ascertained this, he opened his eyes, turned, and started picking his way over the ash-coated rubble. Eventually, e spotted a familiar spiky puff of red hair, poking out from under an enormous board. "Hang on a moment, Lea," he reassured him. "I'll just get this board off—" He hooked his small fingers under the edge of the board and pulled up with all the strength in his body—which wasn't much, admittedly, but it was enough to shift the board a few inches. He tugged on it again, causing it to shift another few inches. In this method, bit by bit, he managed to move the board enough for Lea to slide out from under it. Only then did Saïx remember about Xemnas and the others, and he glanced around in slight panic.

"Thanks, Isa," Lea said. "Hey, whatcha lookin' for?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing in particular," Saïx dismissed. "What on Earth did you do _this_ time, to make the house explode like that?"

Lea's brow furrowed. "I'm…not entirely sure," he admitted. "I just…got really mad, and I blacked out. Next thing I knew, that board was squishing me. Where'd you go on that walk, anyway? You missed breakfast."

Saïx shrugged. "To steal your phrase, I'm not actually sure. I got lost, but I met some people and they helped me find my way back here." At the mention of breakfast, his stomach gurgled plaintively.

Lea laughed. "Hah, even the mighty Isa needs to eat, just like the rest of us mortals. So, those people you mentioned—they what you were lookin' for?"

Saïx ignored the snarky comment and simply answered Lea's question. "Yes, they are." He glanced back to look for them again, and spotted Xigbar approaching at a jog, trailing the rest of the group behind him.

"Oy! Saïx! The hell was up with that?" Xigbar yelled. "The Devil on your heels or something?"

"Don't be stupider than you can help, Xigbar," Xaldin ordered. "He was probably running from your ugly mug."

"Why, you—!" Xigbar began, going for Xaldin's throat. Lexaeus caught him by the collar and held him a few inches off the ground.

"Xigbar, don't kill Xaldin," Lexaeus ordered. "Xaldin, don't provoke Xigbar. Can't you two stop fighting for one second?"

Xigbar and Xaldin exchanged a glance. "No," they said in unison.

Zexion, who had caught up, sighed.

"Isa?" Lea muttered in an aside to his friend. "Would these…people be the ones who got you un-lost? And why the hell are they calling you Saïx?"

"Yes, these would be those people," Saïx answered. "They invited me to join their group and I accepted—their leader gave me that name."

Lea raised an eyebrow. "You just…joined? No questions asked? And you let them take your _name_ from you?"

"They seemed like trustworthy people," Saïx protested. "And I have a good feeling about their leader."

Lea watched the chaos unfolding on the sidewalk—Vexen trying to kill Xigbar, Lexaeus holding them apart, Xemnas trying to get them to calm down, Xaldin snickering at Xigbar's plight, and Zexion ignoring it all—for a few seconds, then turned back to his friend. "I think your Isa-senses must be broken. There's no way these loonies are trustworthy."

"Well, whether you like it or not, _I_ trust them," Saïx stated. "And I'm going with them. You can stay or come along, as you please, though I might remind you that your home is nothing more than ash, now. This group's leader has already offered you a place in their ranks—all you need do is say the word, and you can come along."

Lea considered the proposal, arms folded, brow furrowed, lip bitten. He hesitated. It was clear he was debating the pros and cons of either option internally. "Well," he said finally, "the people seem like loonies, but I don't really have anywhere else to go. And we promised each other we'd stick together forever, right?"

Saïx nodded.

"Let's just get one thing straight: No matter what weird crap they do to my name, we call each other Isa and Lea. Got it memorised?"

Saïx smiled, a rare sight. "Got it memorised. I'll go talk to the Superior."

XIII

Saïx and the newly-named Axel trailed behind the group as they made their way to the group's hideout. When they arrived at an abandoned warehouse, they stopped.

"Welcome to the Warehouse That Never Was But Will Hopefully Still Be Here Tomorrow," Xemnas announced. "Sometimes also known as Home. Numbers VII and VIII, follow me—there's some space for you to stay. Everyone else, do as you please without killing each other or destroying anything."

"Yes, sir," Xigbar muttered sarcastically.

XIII

For once in their short lives, Saïx and Axel were in separate rooms. Saïx was grateful for this—Axel snored like a chainsaw—but the redhead himself was less so.

"I'll miss you, buddy," Axel wailed dramatically, clinging to Saïx with all his might.

"Get off," Saïx growled.

Axel grinned and let him go. "Sure thing, buddy."

"And stop calling me that."

"Sure thing, buddy."

"Lea, I swear to whatever higher power is watching us, one day I will kill you."

"Sure thing, buddy."

Saïx stormed off, determined not to kill Axel just yet—it would probably look bad if he strangled his friend on their first day in this organisation. Hopefully things would be less chaotic from here on out.

XIII

Saïx's hope was in vain, particularly the day Number IX joined their ranks.

"He didn't have anywhere else to go!" Zexion, who had brought the stray home, protested.

"Zexion…" Xemnas sighed.

"Please, Superior?" Zexion begged, putting his best puppy eyes to good use.

Xemnas sighed again. "What's his name?" he asked wearily.

"It's Myde," the soon-to-be Number IX answered hopefully.

"Demyx, then," Xemnas said. "Welcome to the Organisation, Number IX."

The newly-named Demyx whooped in joy and tackled Zexion with a hug. "Awesome!"

Watching from behind a corner, Saïx disagreed. More loud people meant less peace and quiet. Less peace and quiet was not optimal.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you want._

_Okay. I finished the second chapter. I hope you all like it._

_…wait, is there anyone actually reading this? I've gotten no indicators of anyone reading this—no reviews, no alert+s, no favorites, nothing. Does anyone actually care that I posted the next chapter?_

_Anyway, the first bit of this was written before I posted the first two parts of this story. The second bit was all written at once (along with a significant portion of the third chapter—about six written pages, total) late at night. So its quality may be dubious. Also, I'm starting to get the feeling that the characters are writing me rather than the other way around. Saïx in particular was quite recalcitrant. And Axel seems rather more dickish than I'd like him. He should mellow out when Roxas shows up, I think. And the seemingly unrelated scene in the middle of the chapter (it's the one with Demyx and Zexion—you'll see it) will, in fact, have a point. Sooner or later. I should plan more._

__As of the end of this chapter, numbers VII, XI, and XII are twelve years old, numbers VI, VIII, and IX are thirteen, numbers I, II, and IV are fourteen, and numbers III, V, and X are fifteen. Also, at the end of this chapter, it's about mid-to-late April. For reference.__

_If I have horribly mangled anyone's character, please let me know so I can fix it. Any and all feedback is loved a heck of a lot, so if there is anyone reading this at all, please let me know what you think!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Nearly a year passed. During that time, Axel blew up the microwave twice, Vexen was forbidden from ever doing laundry again (he had mixed up his own detergent from chemicals in his lab. The results were not pretty. Colorful, yes, but not pretty), and Demyx brought home more strays than anyone knew what to do with (Xigbar's suggestion of eating them was quickly shot down).

Saïx never was quite certain how Number X joined their ranks. One evening, the living room was empty of people. The following morning, there was a young man laying on the couch and complaining about how people were walking too loudly. Saïx had asked the Superior about it and hadn't gotten a clear answer. This irritated him greatly.

How the Organisation met their Number XI, however, was perfectly clear. Saïx remembered that day well.

A few of them were returning home from a quick reconnaissance mission when they heard a yelp from an alleyway. Saïx exchanged a glance with Axel. In it were two unspoken messages, one from each of them.

_I'm bored._

_ I feel like if I don't maul something soon I'll kill _you_, and the Superior would be irritated with me if I did that._

A high-pitched scream echoed from the little alleyway.

"Okay, now we _have_ to investigate," Axel said.

The three of them cautiously entered the alleyway. They saw mostly red. There were splatters of blood on the brick walls and on the pavement and rose petals of the same shade were scattered here and there. There appeared to be about three bodies' worth of dismembered limbs with one unmaimed body lying face-down in a heap of the blood-red rose petals.

"That…frankly, is disturbing," Axel managed after the group had stared at the carnage for perhaps a minute.

"I must agree with you," Saïx said. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, overpowering everything else and making Saïx's nose twitch. He thanked whatever higher power was watching over him that it was a new moon.

Behind them, Demyx threw up.

Very, very carefully, Saïx made his way over to the unmaimed body. It appeared to be breathing. Saïx tried not to.

Axel approached and prodded the body with a toe. It groaned. "Okay, it's alive. Now what?" he said, flipping the body over onto its back.

"Can we take her home?" Demx asked, having steeled his stomach against the gore.

Saïx and Axel exchanged glances. They both knew what would happen if they refused: Demyx would cry, and they'd end up agreeing anyway, except feeling worse about it than they might if theyjust agreed straight off.

_Damn those puppy eyes,_ they both thought.

"We'll have to clear it with the Superior first," Saïx warned.

Taking that as the agreement it was, Demyx attempted to hug Saïx, who shoved him off and into a wall. "Thank you!" Demyx said, recovering from the stumble. "Now, who's going to carry her?"

As it happened, Axel carried the body (whose name was eventually decided upon as Marluxia and who turned out to actually be male, much to their surprise) home, because Demyx was too lazy and Saïx flat-out refused.

XIII

It was a few months later. The day had started out fair, but now storm clouds were closing in.

That night, the full moon would reign over what parts of the sky were unhidden by clouds. This made Saïx antsy and snappish.

At this moment, he and Axel were fighting. Neither of them could quite remember the original point of the argument, as it had degenerated into bringing up and rehashing old disagreements and irritants.

Tossing one last scathing remark over his shoulder, Saïx stormed out into the rain pouring from the evening-darkened sky. Axel watched him go.

Several years before, Isa and Lea had had a fight over who would play with a specific toy first. Eventually, Isa had stormed off, much like Saïx just had, and Lea had chased after him, trailing apologies and compromises like ribbons behind him.

_We're no longer Isa and Lea_, Axel realised.

Unlike in that fight so many years before, he did not chase after Saïx.

XIII

Saïx ran. The rain poured down upon his head and body, soaking him to the bone within minutes, but he barely noticed.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let a petty disagreement like that turn into such a big fight? Why had he run away?

Why was he still running? He could—_should_—turn back now, return to the base, apologise to Le—_Axel, his name is Axel_.

_I should turn back_, he thought.

He didn't.

XIII

"Zexion?" Demyx whispered.

Zexion did not move, speak, or in any way acknowledge that he'd heard Demyx. He merely stared straight ahead, unblinking, face white.

"Zexion~"

No response.

Demyx waved a hand in front of his friend's face. Zexion's eyes did not so much as flicker.

Wordlessly, Demyx put his arms around his friend and held him.

XIII

At this time, Saïx wasn't sure which form he was in. To be perfectly honest, he didn't really care. All he knew right now was that he was running.

He raised his nose to the wind and sniffed. A scent—a person—the smell of anger and the burnt almond of ozone lay over and around them like a cloak.

He growled. If this person was looking for a fight, they would get one.

XIII

Eleran ran. She ran from those who were chasing her.

She wasn't quite sure why they were chasing her this time. Perhaps it was because she was running.

It was raining. Thunder and lightning crashed and sparked overhead. Perfect weather for a run.

She smiled grimly. If they were looking for a chase, she would give them one.

Suddenly, a vaguely human shape loomed out of the darkness and Eleran crashed into it. She panicked, thinking it was one of them. She fought. It fought back.

Some time into their fight—she wasn't keeping track of how long exactly—she could have sworn that her opponent turned into a large blue wolf. That might have just been a dream, though, as shortly after that the world spiraled into blackness.

XIII

The sun rose, as it did every day. It was even visible, the previous night's dark clouds having gone off to storm around somewhere else.

Saïx opened his eyes. The sky was very pretty today, he noticed absently. It was a lovely shade of blue…

_Wait. Sky?_ That didn't make sense. Waking up was supposed to happen _inside_. Unless the roof had fallen in, the sky was _not_ inside.

_Oh._ It was the night after the full moon. That explained it. He was used to waking up outside the night after the full moon.

He sat up. Fortunately, his coat had survived the transformation. Xemnas always wondered why Saïx wore a coat at least three sizes too big for him. Saïx had never explained it, but if his coat was any smaller, it'd be ripped to shreds every time he transformed, which would be unfortunate. He picked it up and wrapped it carefully around himself—it was cold that morning, and the rest of his clothes had been shredded in the transformation. He mourned the loss of a good set of clothes as he stood to return home. He hadn't run far—he recognised the territory around him and wouldn't have any trouble finding his way.

_Wait a second._

Saïx raised his nose and sniffed. Ah. There it was again—another scent. Human, female, young, very tired. He glanced around, trying to match the scent with its source.

There was a girl lying on the ground, curled up with one arm pillowing her head. She looked to be about Saïx's age, maybe half a year younger. As he watched, her blue eyes flickered open, then closed again.

Having ascertained that the girl was still living, Saïx turned to leave. She was no concern of his.

XIII

When Eleran woke up, she was at first confused about her surroundings. Where there should have been a mattress, there was instead cold pavement. There were no blankets and the level of light was much higher than she was used to first thing in the morning.

She blinked as the events of the previous evening floated into shape in her memory. A fight of some sort, then she must've been dreaming…

She blinked again to make the street come into focus. A warehouse to one side, a flat gravel space (probably a loading yard or some such), blue sky overhead with the remnants of storm-clouds chasing themselves off the horizon, a figure in a black coat starting to walk away—

_Wait. Back up a moment there._

"Hey!" Eleran yelled.

The figure paused, turned back. "Oh. Good morning," he (probably a he, Eleran thought) said dispassionately. He began to walk away again.

"Hey, you! Listen to me!" Eleran yelled. "We're gonna talk!"

"No, we're not," the figure disagreed, not pausing. "I have no interest in talking to you."

"Well, I wanna talk to you, so we're gonna talk!" Eleran got to her feet to chase after him. "At least tell me your name!"

"I am Saïx."

Finally catching up, Eleran caught Saïx by the hand and shook firmly. "The name's Eleran. What's with the trenchcoat? You part of some secret society or something?"

Saïx shook her off. "No. It is simply practical. Did you want something?"

Eleran shrugged. "Well, we were fighting yesterday. I'm curious who you are."

"That's nice." Saïx began walking away again. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Parents who will be worried about you? You can't be much older than twelve…"

"I have nowhere," Eleran said flatly, expression blanking in an instant. "Nowhere that I want to be, anyway. My parents will neither notice nor care if I vanish. And you can't be much older than me, so that argument is invalid."

Saïx hesitated. He knew that flat cold of _nowhere to return to_ all too well, but he'd had Lea for a friend for several years now. They day they met was a bright point in his memory—unlike many other events from his past, it remained crystal clear.

_"I'm Lea. That's L-E-A. Commit it to memory!"_

Eleran waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello~ Earth to weirdo~"

Saïx shook his head, almost growling. Lea was gone, now—he had to remember that. He tried to smile and felt like he failed miserably. "I think I can offer you a place to go. My…friends, you might say, and I live by ourselves in an old warehouse. Our Superior's always looking for more people…"

Eleran shook her head. "Nah, I think I'll work it out on my own."

"All right." Saïx nodded politely. "The offer still stands—if you need somewhere to go, our door is open."

"I'll keep that in mind." A smile like a flash of lightning appeared on Eleran's face, then vanished just as quickly. "Bye now~"

Saïx made his retreat, attempting to find his way back home. _I'll have to apologise to Le—Axel,_ he thought.

XIII

Axel would hear none of it. "You're sorry? Gee, that's a _shock,_" he spat sarcastically. "The high-and-mighty Saïx, _sorry_. Why do I _not_ believe that?"

"Axel—"

"Save it. I don't want to hear it, _Number VII_," Axel said.

Saïx drew himself up, wrapping the shreds of his dignity around him like a cloak. "Very well, Number VIII," he said coldly, and nothing would ever be the same again.

XIII

A month later, Eleran showed up on the doorstep of the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow, dripping wet from another storm and shivering. Lexaeus took pity on her and let her in. Through chattering teeth, she explained herself and the offer Saïx had made her. Xemnas shot Saïx a Look (Saïx apologised), but sighed, dubbed the girl Larxene, and bade her welcome to Organization XIII.

And so there were twelve.


	3. Chapter 3

_a/n: This chapter was posted September 06, 2011. It is the most Zemyx-y chapter. So. Have some Zemyx on Zemyx Day. *waves rainbow flag*_

_School's starting tomorrow for me. And so I will post this before I start school. Kumoricon was just this weekend, and it was awesome, and I cosplayed Kingdom Hearts one day and Hetalia the other two days, and I went to awesome panels and met awesome people and OH MY GOD I MET TODD HABERKORN AND GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH. AHHHHHHHHH. *fangirl screaming* (In case you don't know who that is (SHAME ON YOU), he voices Italy in Hetalia, Death the Kid in Soul Eater, Kono in Darker than Black, Hikaru in Ouran High School Host Club, and Ling in FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Also probably some other roles which I am forgetting or do not know about.)_

_Um, so, anyway, is there anybody reading this? I've got, like, no reviews. At all. So. Feedback, please? *puppy eyes* I like to know how I'm doing._

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Demyx was almost positive that Zexion was avoiding him—had, in fact, been avoiding him since the storm a month and a half ago. It was seriously starting to get on Demyx's nerves, so he decided to confront Zexion about it. This was, of course, more easily said than done, but Demyx was fairly persistent when it was something or someone important to him. Eventually, he managed to corner Zexion. He didn't bother stepping delicately around the topic—that was more Zexion's style than his. Instead, he went straight for the heart of it.

"You've been avoiding me," he accused.

Zexion ignored him, focusing instead on the book he was currently devouring.

Demyx could be truly annoying when he wished to and he utilised this talent now. "Zexion~" He poked the shorter boy in the shoulder. "Hey, Zexion! Zexion~ Hey~ Hey, listen!"

A frown of irritation flashed briefly across Zexion's face before vanishing, leaving his expression as blank as usual.

Demyx grinned. It was working! "Zeeeeeexiiiiiioooooonnn~" he whined, drawing out the syllables of his friend's name. "Pay attention to me! I wanna talk to you!"

"Well, I don't want to talk to you." Zexion's voice was quiet, but his annoyance was clear. "Kindly go away, Number IX."

_Success!_ Demyx thought. "You've been avoiding me, Zexion."

"I have not."

Demyx frowned. "Yes, you have. When you see me coming, you turn around and go the other way. You don't answer me when I talk to you. And you duck behind furniture and try to pretend you're not there."

"I do not." Zexion turned a page in his book.

"Liar. You've been avoiding me since that storm a month or so ago," said Demyx.

Zexion's eyes, which had been flickering back and forth as he read, froze.

"Ah, so that's it."

"It is nothing, Number IX," Zexion said flatly. His tone brooked no argument, but Demyx had never been one to read the atmosphere.

"It's not nothing, Zexion. It's gotta be something—you afraid of storms or something?" Demyx asked, half-joking, watching Zexion carefully for a reaction.

The catch to the other boy's breath told Demyx all he needed to know.

"Is that it? You're afraid of storms?"

No answer.

"You know, that's not really a big deal," Demyx said carefully. "A lot of people are afraid of storms. It's nothing to freak out over, especially not to the point of avoiding someone for a month or more." He shrugged. "Nobody's perfect, Zexion. It's a fact of life. You may as well get used to it."

"I'm not ashamed of being afraid," Zexion said clearly, and Demyx could tell he almost believed it himself.

"That's bull, Zexion," Demyx said bluntly. "Look, I know you like your cold, emotionless façade, but I've got a news flash for you: you're human, whether you like it or not, and humans feel fear and stuff like that. It's not a—sign of weakness, or imperfection, or—or—or anything!" He waved his hands vaguely, struggling with his words. "I guess what I'm tryin' to say is—I like you the way you are, emotions and all."

Zexion's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Demyx shrugged and glanced away. "I like you, Zexion. Um…a lot."

Zexion's eyes widened slightly and his cheeks pinked, his book slipping from his grasp to hit the floor with a thud. "You…like me?"

Demyx blushed and studiously avoided Zexion's gaze. He hadn't quite meant to let that slip just yet, but clearly his brain-to-mouth filter was broken today. "That's…um…what I just said…" He chuckled nervously. "S-sorry about that…I mean, I meant it an' all—" he could feel his face heating up by the second "—but, um, I, er…wasn't really planning on saying anything…" He dared a glance back.

Zexion was blinking, clearly surprised. "I…don't know what to say," he admitted.

Demyx giggled. "There's a novelty. Zexion, master of words, speechless."

Zexion smiled and it lit up his whole face. "I suppose 'I like you, too,' would be appropriate," he half-joked.

Demyx grinned. "If that's what you mean."

"It is what I mean."

Of course, this was the point when a loud wolf-whistle sounded from the doorway of the storeroom they had found themselves in. Demyx flushed and whipped around to see who was taunting him this time.

Xigbar was leaning against the doorframe, grinning and clapping slowly. "Been wonderin' when that would happen," he said.

Zexion scowled. "Begone, Number II." By the tone of his voice when he said 'Number II,' he meant 'foul demon from the darkest pits of hell.'

Xigbar chortled. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you kids to your fun." Tossing a half-wave over his shoulder, he walked off.

Demyx hunched his shoulders as his face, neck, and ears flamed red with mortification. "Geez…" he muttered.

Zexion caught his hand and tugged on it, causing Demyx to look back at him. "Number II is, unfortunately, always like that," he said coolly. "I have not yet managed to find a way to kill him that would leave no suspicion that it was I, so he still lives, breathes, and spouts inane nonsense."

Demyx burst out laughing.

"I wasn't joking," said Zexion, seemingly confused by Demyx's mirth.

Demyx blinked a few times, then shook his head. "You dropped your book," he offered, scooping up the tome and handing it to Zexion.

"Oh, thank you," Zexion said absently, taking the book and checking it over for damage.

Demyx fidgeted as the silence stretched between them. "Zexion," he blurted.

Zexion looked up from his inspection of the book. "Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?" Demyx asked. "I mean, I dunno if you want to, and it's totally okay if you don't, I mean, I don't want to push you or anything—"

"Demyx," Zexion interrupted gently.

"Yeah?" The look Demyx gave him was so hopeful it reminded Zexion of a lost puppy.

"Shut up." And then he kissed Demyx, and Demyx stopped trying to think for a while.

XIII

Time passed, as time did, and late spring blossomed into summer, which faded into autumn. As winter melted into spring, rumors of a group called the Heartless began to reach the Organization's ears. Individual members weren't very strong, said the whispers, but there were huge numbers of them, and they often won fights by swarming their opponents until escape was impossible. Their leader was shrouded in mystery—some said he was short, some said she was tall, some said it was a robot—but all the rumors agreed on one thing: he or she or it had long silver hair. The Organization didn't think much of these rumors at first—after all, their own leader had long silver hair—but their opinions changed when the Heartless attacked their very base.

It was a short, not terribly bloody fight—the Heartless fled when Lexaeus picked one of them up and tossed him back to his comrades—but Xemnas's interest was piqued. He ordered all of them to find out whatever they could on the subject. Xaldin determined the general area of their base and Vexen discovered a more complete description of their leader, but Larxene had apparently known someone who had been part of the group.

"He was in my class at school," she explained. "Bit of a clown, always cheerful, pretty loud. Not bad grades, from what I heard, even though he never looked like he was paying attention."

"What was his name?" Luxord asked.

Larxene frowned. "Sora, I think. He was always hanging around with his two best friends—one girl, Kairi, and one guy, Riku." She chuckled. "To be honest, though, I thought Riku was a girl first time I saw him. He had really long silver hair—"

"Just like the leader of the Heartless is rumored to," Zexion murmured.

"So what makes you think he was part of the Heartless?" asked Marluxia.

Larxene shrugged. "I overheard them talking a couple times at lunch—the word 'heartless' came up a couple times, usually accompanied by shushing. I didn't think much of it at the time."

"But that was a year ago at least, right?" Saïx said with a frown. "So would you have any idea where this Sora person is now? If we can find him, perhaps we can also find the Heartless."

Larxene shook her head. "No idea."

"Any family?" asked Demyx.

"I think he had a little brother, name of Roxas," Larxene said uncertainly. "Didn't talk about him much, though."

"Roxas, huh," Axel said. "Sure it wasn't a little sister? Sounds like a girl's name."

"Nah, I saw him once," said Larxene. "Short kid, blonde, hair sticking up every which way—not as bad as Sora's, though. Short-tempered. I don't think he and Riku got along."

"Interesting," said Xemnas.

"D'you think this Roxas kid might know something?" said Xigbar. "I mean, Sora was his brother, and brothers share stuff with each other."

"Maybe." Xemnas fiddled with the pen he was holding, thinking hard. He snapped his fingers. "Search for any trace of Sora, Riku, Kairi, or Roxas. Check newpapers—the library keeps archives. See what you can find." He waved a hand. "Dismissed."

Ten black-trenchcoated individuals filed out. Saïx hesitated.

"Um…sir…"

Xemnas blinked, looking up from staring blankly into space. "Ah, Number VII. Was there something you wished to speak to me about?"

Saïx did his level best not to fidget. "Sir, you were wounded in our battle against the Heartless…"

"Yes, but that was weeks ago," Xemnas dismissed. "I thank you for your concern, Number VII, but there is nothing to worry about. You may go."

"Sir." Saïx bowed and exited. What had that been? Even as he asked himself the question, an answer made itself clear: he was simply making sure his leader was okay. It wouldn't do for the Superior to be out of commission—the Organization would fall apart quickly after. He knew that answer—but he couldn't shake the sense that there was some other answer. It was ridiculous—what other answer could there be? And yet…

He shook his head to clear it, like a dog shedding water. No matter. He had information to search for.

XIII

They spent several weeks searching, all in vain. There was nothing in the newspapers (not that they had expected any different), no-one they talked to would answer their questions, and all other avenues of inquiry came up empty. It frustrated most of them—Axel set a bonfire in the yard behind the Warehouse, it was almost possible to see the sparks coming off Larxene, and Luxord shuffled his deck of cards near-constantly. It was, therefore, a stroke of the very best good luck when Demyx found a boy matching Larxene's description of Roxas. He brought the boy back to the Warehouse, where Larxene confirmed that it was, indeed, Roxas. The tension that had been singing through the air as of late vanished at the revelation that they were actually getting somewhere.

For seven days, Roxas was like a zombie. When spoken to he did not respond; he moved slowly, when he moved at all. Xemnas gave the responsibility of questioning him to Axel, who instantly stuck to the kid like flames to a log. Slowly, Roxas became more talkative, more responsive, although he still retained a tendency to space out at odd moments. He and Axel grew to be good friends and soon one could scarcely be seen without the other. Saïx tried very hard not to resent Roxas for this—after all, Axel was no longer Saïx's friend, so why should he care? He didn't care. But it was difficult, to see Axel and Roxas laughing together and to not think, _That was Lea and Isa, once. I want those days back._

The days before the Organization—had it really been two years since that fateful morning?—did not often come up in Saïx's memory. The past was the past, over and done with, and there were some parts of it that he would rather not remember.

He wondered why he was so easily distracted lately. It seemed that the smallest thing could make him lose his focus. It couldn't be the full moon—or, at least, not solely the full moon—since this distractibility had been present for well over a month. It was irritating.

And here he was, distracted again! He brought himself back to the present—this was a reconnaissance mission. He could not afford distractions. He would think about all of this later, at a more suitable time.

XIII

It soon became clear that Roxas knew nothing about the Heartless—or, really, anything at all. He had no memories prior to a few days before being picked up by the Organization.

"So he's useless, then," said Saïx at the latest meeting.

Axel scowled. "He's not useless." He glanced at Roxas, who stood quietly in a corner. He lowered his voice. "Besides, we can't just turn him out into the cold!"

"It's June, Number VIII," Saïx pointed out coolly. "It's not exactly cold."

Axel waved his hand. "Not the point. It's the principle of the thing. Anyway, boss-man always says we need more people."

Xemnas inclined his head. "It's true that it will be easier to defeat the Heartless if we have more people to fight." He considered it. "Very well. Number XIII may stay."

Axel grinned his brightest grin and slung an arm over Roxas's shoulders. Saïx tried not to remember Lea greeting Isa that exact same way.

Three days later, the Heartless struck again.


	4. Chapter 4

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you like._

_Er, right. So. This chapter. Lots of things happen. Lots of things are revealed. Lots of characters act really stupid. Particularly Axel._

_Also, we get to see Riku this chapter! :D BTW, the prologue? Yeah, I'mma edit it into nonexistence. It will reappear later as flashback scenes._

_The outline for this story is complete! I know exactly where I'm going with this! There's some background info which I don't think I'll be able to get into the story, which will all be there at the end of the story._

_Disclaimer: Yadayadayada, KH belongs to people who are not me, yadayadayada._

_If, by the end of this chapter, you would like to give various characters a hug, I do not blame you. Feedback is incredibly loved to pieces. Less than three~_

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

Unlike the previous battle with the Heartless, it was not quick and bloodless. This time, there were more of them. It was difficult to tell exactly how many—the heat of battle confused the senses, narrowing focus down to the opponent at hand and nothing else—but there were perhaps fifty.

The members of the Organization were skilled, but the Heartless outnumbered them about four to one, and that soon began to tell. The Heartless hemmed them in, separated them from one another, forced them to the ground.

"Parley," Xemnas called. "What do you want? Why did you attack us?"

The crowd of Heartless parted and a figure dressed in black with long, silver hair came forth. His expression was cold and he carried himself arrogantly, though he only looked to be about fourteen.

"My name is Riku," he introduced himself. "I am the leader of the Heartless. I am here to retrieve my friend's younger brother. Come here, Roxas."

Roxas scowled and stood. "I've told you already—I don't know you! I don't remember—you or Sora or anything!" he shouted.

Riku's expression darkened. "Your own family," he hissed. "Your own _family_ and you _dare_ tell me you don't remember? When he's hurt, all because of _you_?"

"God dammit, this is not my fault!" Roxas yelled. "I don't even know what happened!"

"Don't play innocent with me," Riku ordered.

"Well, isn't that just the pot calling the kettle black," snarled Roxas. "You're not entirely devoid of blame yourself, you know!"

For only a moment, Riku seemed to crumple inwards on himself. Then the cold mask was back in place and it was possible to believe that it had never slipped. "Don't speak to me of blame," he hissed. "At least I know full well what I did. You, though—how could you forget? How could you, Roxas?"

"_I don't know_!" Roxas cried, flinging his hands up in frustration. "I don't know what happened, I don't know who you are, who I am—I don't know _anything_! And I'm not going back with you!"

"You are coming back with me," said Riku. "You've been worrying people, you know."

"Why should I care?" Roxas sneered, though a flash of guilt passed through his eyes. "I don't know any of them."

Riku strode through the remaining crowd of Heartless to grab Roxas by the arm. "You're coming with me," he repeated.

And then Axel was there, knocking Riku's hand away. "If he doesn't want to go, then he's not going," he said quietly. All traces of his normal foolish demeanour were gone, leaving behind a menacing gaze and a deadly seriousness.

"He will come," said Riku, returning Axel's gaze menace for menace.

"He will not," said Axel.

"He will."

"He will not."

Riku snarled and lunged, his fist going for Axel's windpipe. Axel blocked and returned with a punch to Riku's gut. Riku let out an "oof" as it connected and ducked, kicking out to knock Axel's feet from under him. Displaying surprising agility, Axel flipped backwards, landing on his hands, the back onto his feet. Riku pursued him, aiming punches at Axel's neck and stomach.

"You don't fight fair," Axel gasped, ducking backwards under Riku's fist.

"Neither to you!" Riku returned, dodging a kick to the knee.

"There's no fair when you're protecting someone important to you." Axel's eyes glittered as he saw an opening and went for it. Too late, he noticed Riku's smirk and realised that it had been a feint. He gasped and fell to his knees when Riku's punch connected solidly with his solar plexus.

"So there isn't," Riku agreed. He glanced around at the other members of Organization XIII and drew a switchblade from his pocket, putting it to Axel's throat. "If anyone moves, he dies," he said coolly. "Now, come along, Roxas."

Roxas snarled. "I'll _come along_ when Hell freezes over." He pushed Riku back, hard. "As Axel has protected me, so I will defend him." The shadows cast by the noonday sun around his feet began to swirl. "I swear, if you lay so much as a finger on him, if you harm one hair on his head…_I'll destroy you_." The shadows began to swirl faster, reaching out for Riku, who was backing up, staring at the ground in horror.

"What the—" he managed.

Roxas laughed coldly. His eyes had become black pits, openings to and endless abyss in which light or mercy had no place. "Get out of my sight." One of the shadows slithered up Riku's leg and torso, along his arm to his hand, and tugged at his fingers until the switchblade fell to the ground.

Riku turned and ran, the Heartless trailing behind him.

Roxas blinked, his eyes fading back to their normal blue. He swayed, staggered—and fainted, Axel catching him before he hit the ground.

"Well, that was exciting," Vexen said dryly, brushing dust off his coat. "I wonder what that thing with the shadows was."

"Whatever it is, it will certainly be…_useful_," Xemnas said.

XIII

_Punch. Punch. Kick. Punch. Remember to breathe._

Riku scowled and struck another cloth dummy. That had been pathetic. Frightened off by a little trick like that—was there any way in which he could be _more _of a failure? It was a simple mission—get in, get Roxas, get out. So easy only someone like him could mess it up.

_Like I mess everything up._

He punched a dummy. It rocked back, then snapped forward to hit him in the face. He sat down hard, black despair threatening the edges of his mind.

_Can't even beat a practice dummy. How sad can you get?_

"We know for certain where they are, now," said a voice from the doorway.

Riku scowled, not turning to face the source of the voice. "Ansem. What do you want."

Ansem smiled coldly. "Why, only to see that you are well, dear Riku. It would not do for you to become ill."

"I'm fine," Riku lied. "Just a bit displeased that I failed the mission."

"Do not worry, dear Riku," said Ansem. "You have only made it easier for us to succeed next time."

XIII

Roxas groaned and opened his eyes. His head ached.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Axel said softly.

"Axel?" Blinking, Roxas sat up, one hand to his head, and glanced around. He was in his room in the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow, in his bed. Axel sat in a chair which he'd pulled up. "You're okay," Roxas managed.

"Yup," said Axel. "How're you feeling?"

"Just a bit of a headache," said Roxas. "What happened? I remember Riku threatening you, and then—nothing."

"Well…you said something like 'as Axel has protected me, so I will defend him.' Something cheesy like that," Axel explained. "And then you did some cool trick with shadows—you made Riku drop his knife—and then the Heartless ran away."

Roxas blinked again and shook his head. "No, really. What happened?"

"It's true, Roxas," said Axel.

Roxas laughed a little. "That's ridiculous. I don't know any trick like that."

Axel shrugged. "You can ask anyone else—it's true."

Roxas was silent for a moment. "But…I don't _know_ any trick like that," he repeated.

"Well, whether you knew the trick or not, you did it," said Axel.

Roxas frowned. "How can I do something that I don't know how to do? How can I not remember it?"

"No idea, Roxas." Axel sighed, and then was quiet for nearly a full minute, something incredibly unusual for him. He was thinking. "So…you and Riku seemed to know each other from…some time before," he said eventually.

"As far as I can remember, I have only met him once before," Roxas said, suddenly cold. "He says he is close to Sora, whom he calls my brother."

"But you don't get along."

"No." Roxas did not elaborate further.

"Why not?" Axel asked cautiously.

"Because he's a liar," said Roxas.

"What do you mean?" asked Axel.

Roxas scowled. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Sure it is," Axel argued. "You're my friend, and friends tell each other stuff, right?"

Abruptly, Roxas swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood. "Some things are too personal to share." His hands clenched into fists.

"Roxas—" Axel began, a little startled.

Roxas turned his back to Axel. "You can leave now."

An expression of hurt and confusion passed over Axel's face as he stood and made his way over to the door. "Roxas," he said again, almost a whisper.

"Get out, Axel," Roxas sighed.

Axel left, closing the door behind him.

XIII

Stalking along the corridor back to his room, Axel was not paying close attention to where he was going and so collided with Saïx, sending them both crashing to the floor. The papers that Saïx was carrying scattering everywhere.

"Watch where you're going, Number VIII," Saïx said, starting to pick up the papers.

"You watch where you're going, _Number VII_," Axel returned.

Saïx looked up briefly, then returned to his papers, ignoring Axel.

Axel scowled. "What, am I beneath your notice?"

"Yes," Saïx answered frankly, gathering his papers into a pile.

"Everyone's beneath your notice," muttered Axel.

Saïx blinked at him. "Your point?"

"What happened to respecting your elders?" asked Axel.

"I wasn't aware that age had anything to do with it," Saïx replied coolly. "Besides, I only respect those who have earned it." Though _You have not_ was left unspoken, it was clearly audible.

"What, so all those years of friendship mean nothing to you?" Axel accused.

"I don't see why they should," said Saïx. "Clearly, they mean nothing to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Saïx smiled bitterly. "You've become quite close with Roxas. Evidently, I'm easily replaced."

"What, you jealous?" mocked Axel.

"Why would I be? Do you really think you matter that much?" sneered Saïx.

"Well, I could have hoped so, given how close we were, but you're obviously heartless," said Axel.

"Being heartless is better than being incapable of logic," countered Saïx.

Axel snorted. "Logic has its place, but it isn't everything."

"What about honesty, then?" Saïx said all-too-innocently. "Does _that_ have its place?"

"I don't lie to my _friends_." Axel's voice was cold.

"You must not have any, then." Saïx bared his teeth in what might be called a smile by the most unobservant. "And no wonder—you drive them all away."

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?" Axel asked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Saïx's tone was icily polite.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Axel ticked points off on his fingers. "You think you're better than everyone else. You're stuck-up and arrogant. You're a goody-two-shoes, mindlessly loyal to our _dear Superior_." His voice was sharp with sarcasm.

"I don't see how loyalty is a bad thing," Saïx said. "Although I can see how you might think so, since you're obviously incapable of it."

"Loyalty, like respect, is for those who have earned it," Axel snarled, turning Saïx's own words against him.

"Your standards must be impossible, then," Saïx observed coolly.

"Just like your standards for respect," Axel shot back. "God, I can't stand your sense of superiority."

"I can't stand your insanity," Saïx returned. "Nor your stupidity."

"I'm not stupid," Axel denied.

"No?" Saïx asked. "You certainly act like it."

"There's a split a mile wide between acting and reality," Axel pointed out. "Of course, you'd know that better than I would."

"Do elaborate," said Saïx.

Axel sneered. "Well, you _act_ normal. Human. But the reality is that you're not—you're a monster and you always will be."

Outwardly, Saïx had no reaction. He picked up the rest of his papers, stood, and brushed past Axel. "Excuse me." It was only once he was certain that he was out of sight that he let the tears fall.

Watching him go, Axel felt like though he had won the argument, he had lost utterly.


	5. Chapter 5

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you like._

_So. This chapter is, to me, one of the saddest. I feel so bad for putting Saïx through so much misery. :D_

_Also, if you haven't yet figured out that Saïx is a werewolf, then I just gave you a spoiler. :D It does happen to be my headcanon and it has been there since Chapter One, so this isn't anything new. I tried to give as many hints as I could. Hands up if you guessed it before this chapter!_

_**EDIT: **There were some formatting issues. They have been fixed. FFnet, why you no work for me? D:_

_The first scene with the names-attached-like-this? That formatting is taken from the fabulous fic **On Words Never Spoken**, by **mthaytr**_. I highly recommend it.__

_So. Uh. I want to thank **Mystics Apprentice** for the absolutely wonderful review. Thanks for the lovely feedback!_

_Disclaimer: [insert witty disclaimer here]_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Things had changed—one could tell that for certain. Whenever Saïx and Axel found themselves in the same room, the tension fizzled and crackled in the air and was almost possible to taste the hurt and the shattering friendship.

_What happened?_ Saïx wondered one evening. He had retired early and was currently sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, holding his pillow close. _We used to be so close. Like brothers—more than the very best of friends, closer than any blood family. We were each the only one the other had left in the world. Not really two separate people—Isa-and-Lea was one entity with two bodies and two minds. We were alone, but we had each other. And now…_

He sighed. Now, Axel had Roxas—they had become as one over the three weeks that Roxas had been with them, Axel-and-Roxas. And Saïx had…

_I have nobody,_ he thought. He snickered self-deridingly into his pillow. _And that's not exactly a surprise—who'd want to be around me? It's just as Axel said—I'm arrogant. I'm stuck-up. I'm heartless._

_ I'm an inhuman monster._

Saïx bit his lip to keep his breath from catching, but the tears still slipped from his eyes to make damp spots on the pillow. Even after so many years living with it, transforming every full moon and trying not to snarl at people the rest of the time, being called _monster_ still hurt, like a punch to the gut. Especially coming from Le—_Axel_, who used to be his best friend, his other half, the fire to his ice, the wild, crazy enthusiasm to his reserved caution.

_Not anymore. Seems like…he doesn't need me._

_ Then I…I don't need him either._

And just for a moment, Isa buried his face in his pillow and cried.

XIII

On the ground floor of the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow, there was a space with a few chairs and old couches. It was jokingly called the Brown Area because of the color of all the furniture. One Sunday morning, Axel approached the Brown Area, hoping his target would be there.

_Aha. Success,_ he thought, backing up to approach in a more noticeable fashion.

"Good morning, Demyx!" he said, filling his tone with false cheer.

Demyx looked up from the novel he was reading. "Morning, Axel," he said amiably. "What's up?"

Axel shrugged. "Dunno. The ceiling."

"That joke is so dead it's dust, man," Demyx complained. "No, really. What's up? You never come talk to me unless you want something." His eyes narrowed. "This isn't like the time with the duct tape, the thumbtacks, and the rubber chicken, is it? Because my hair hasn't recovered from that yet, man."

Axel chuckled and shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that." He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. "I need some advice," he admitted.

"What sort of advice?" Demyx asked warily.

Axel shrugged again in a show of nonchalance. "Oh, you know. Advice. On what to do. In a specific situation."

"What sort of situation?" Demyx sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you want help with, man."

"Er…when-someone-you-maybe-kinda-care-about-is-maybe-kinda-mad-at-you-and-you-maybe-kinda-know-why-and-it's-maybe-kinda-your-fault," Axel muttered at top speed.

Demyx blinked as he tried to decipher the string of syllables. "Have you tried apologizing?" he asked slowly.

Axel perked right up. "Great idea! Thanks, Demyx!" He dashed off.

"No…problem…man?" Demyx managed.

XIII

Saïx looked up as he heard a rustle and saw a slip of paper being pushed under his door. When it had stopped moving, he uncurled to go investigate it.

It was a note.

_Isa,_ it read,

_I'm sorry for everything._

_ —Lea_

Saïx's eyes widened. An apology? Signed by Lea, not Axel? He checked the note carefully, looking for signs of forgery—but no, the handwriting was unmistakably Lea's, spiky, crooked, and near-illegible.

The question was—was it sincere? Isa had known Lea, who was always straightforward and never said anything he didn't mean wholeheartedly. The note was signed _Lea_, possibly indicating at least a degree of sincerity.

Saïx set the note down carefully, his movements measured and precise. Just as carefully, he walked back over to his bed and curled up, clutching his pillow tightly. He did not cry; his expression was blank.

_Lea apologized._

He took a deep breath. _Can I accept it?_

He considered it carefully. _I want to. Oh, how I want to. I want things to go back to the way they were before, Isa-and-Lea instead of Axel and Saïx._

_ I want to._

_ But I…I don't think I can. We've fought too much already—there's no guarantee that we won't fight this badly again. I don't think I can handle this much emotional stress on a repeated basis._

_ So, tomorrow, I'll tell Number VIII that I can't accept his apology. And Isa-and-Lea will be gone for good._

Saïx did not cry.

XIII

Roxas scowled at the far wall. He didn't like that wall, he decided. It was far too white, for one thing. Too plain. Boring. He aimed his best death glare at the wall and hoped that it would burst into flames.

He sighed. It wasn't really the wall he was angry at. He knew that. It was just an easier target for his rage than Axel, because it was _there_ and Axel _wasn't_ and a wall wasn't likely to flash Roxas a dazzling smile and snap out that lame catchphrase that wasn't actually that annoying.

_Axel._

Roxas pouted and focused on the wall. He wasn't going to think about Axel. He didn't care about Axel. Nope. Definitely not.

_Why should I care? Heartless bastard, prying at things that are _private_, useless, pathetic—right, not thinking about him._

Roxas sighed again. It was a bit difficult, not thinking of Axel. The redhead wormed his way into every thought, every consideration, every rant.

_Damn inconsiderate jerk._

Suddenly, a thought struck Roxas.

_When did he actually pry?_

Axel had prodded a little bit—_too much,_ Roxas hissed mentally—but after Roxas had really gotten angry—

_I didn't even let him back off,_ he realized. _I just flipped out at him and told him to get the hell out._

_ He should have known._

_ How could he have known? Unless he's met me and Riku before, which I don't know about…_

_ So…does he think I just flipped out at him for no reason?_

_ …I should apologize,_ he realized.

Roxas resolved to go find Axel and apologize before he lost his nerve. He took a deep breath, stood up, and went to find his best friend.

XIII

Axel stared at the door.

It stared back. It didn't have any eyes, but Axel could feel it watching him. Its gaze was accusing, harsh. _You're a jerk,_ it said.

Axel shook his head, sending his hair flying. _Must be more nervous than I thought, if I''m imagining doors staring at me and talking to me._ He chuckled.

_Deep breaths, Axel,_ he reminded himself. He raised a hand to knock—

The door opened, and Roxas stared up at him.

"Hey," Axel began awkwardly.

"Hey," Roxas returned.

The were quiet briefly, then both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

"You can go first." Roxas gestured for Axel to continue.

Axel took another deep breath. "I shouldn't've pried."

"You couldn't've known," said Roxas.

"I was a jerk."

"I was a bitch."

Axel half-giggled. "Looks like we both blame ourselves for this."

"Seems like it." Roxas held out his hand. "Are we still friends?"

Axel took it and pulled the shorter boy into a hug. "You bet we are."

Roxas punched Axel half-heartedly in the chest. "Idiot."

Axel just laughed.

XIII

Saïx had to give the Heartless this: they were persistent little buggers. They'd retreated twice before and here they were again, hissing and launching attacks in groups. Saïx was currently preoccupied with three of them—alone, they would have been but minor nuisances; in a group, they were a bit more formidable.

After dispatching one and snarling at the other two until they retreated, Saïx took a moment to calm himself down and prevent himself from transforming. It was a bit difficult—the wolf liked bloodshed and was already close to the surface, as the full moon would be rising that evening.

_Broad daylight. Other people around. No need for it—I can fight just fine like this._ All good reasons.

Then, through a gap in the fight, he saw the leader of the Heartless—Riku, that was his name—holding a switchblade (he must've got another one) to the Superior's throat, and all those reasons flew away. The situation was one that probably couldn't be resolved through merely human fighting. The wolf snarled, wanted to leap—

_No! Bad idea!_ he reminded himself. _Broad daylight! Everyone will see! When they see you transform, what d'you think their reaction will be?_

_ "The reality is that you're a monster and you always will be."_ Axel's words echoed in his head, enforcing the _no, don't._

_ But—the Superior's in danger!_

_ He can take care of himself. He probably wouldn't want you to come barging in and ruin a fight that's going well._

_ Going well? Knife! Throat! Does this mean anything to you?_

_ He'll be fine—_

_ It's your duty to protect the leader of your pack! Go _now!_ Consequences_ later!

Almost without knowing what he was doing, Saïx tossed his coat to one side and leapt, trading shapes midair. His front paws smacked into Riku's shoulders, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Saïx growled, low, quiet, and menacing.

"What the hell?" gasped Riku.

Actual words were impossible to manage in this shape, but Saïx did his best to convey "Leave now and never return or I'll chew you slowly into mincemeat" through growls, snarls, baring his teeth, and raising his hackles.

Riku seemed to get the gist of the message, scrambling away and calling for a retreat. The Heartless fled once more.

Saïx growled one last time to make sure it stuck, then turned to see if his Superior was all right. He sniffed for the coppery tang of blood and half-grinning when he smelled none.

Absently, Xemnas scratched his ears. "I didn't know we had a dog," he said. "And especially not one this color. Do dogs come in blue?"

Cautiously, the other members of the Organisation approached. Recognition flashed through Axel's eyes—he'd seen this form many times before—and Larxene blinked and frowned, as if almost remembering a long-forgotten dream, but neither of them said anything. Zexion performed a quick head count to make sure that they were all present and in one piece.

"We're missing…Number VII," he reported.

"Did the Heartless capture him, or is he dead?" asked Luxord.

Saïx felt exhausted, like there were lead weights attached to his limbs. He lay down, curling up and tucking his nose under the tip of his tail. His eyes remained open—he didn't want to fall asleep, because if he lost consciousness he'd return to his normal form, and he really didn't want to do that yet. He was so tired, though…

He yawned, his eyelids sliding shut. He'd just rest his eyes for a moment…only a moment…


	6. Chapter 6

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you like._

_Ahem. So. Anyway. Quick update, I know. Yesterday (10/10/11) was Luxord Day, you know. A nice Reveal in this chapter—I'm not sure how I handled it and I'm still not quite happy with the third scene, but oh well. Also some character death. Just warning for that. And a bit of a text block in the second scene._

_This chapter contains cynical!Axel. He is fantastically fun to write and act but apparently a little scary. So, more warnings._

_Please note methods of address. They're very important—little things like calling a person "sir" or not, possessive pronouns vs. article, that sort of thing._

_I think I'm nearly halfway done with this over-10,000-word-and-still-growing monstrosity. I don't actually know. But things are chugging along quite nicely and the plot is progressing at a reasonable pace, I think. What do you think? Is the pacing good, too fast, too slow, what?_

_Kingdom Hearts belongs to wonderful people who are not me. Please enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

For some people, waking up was a gradual process, with many shades of sleepiness between completely sleeping and fully awake.

In this particular instance, however, Saïx passed through no such intermediate stages; one moment there was nothing, the next he was staring at the ceiling of his room in the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow and trying to remember how he'd got there.

_Let's see. Fighting against the Heartless, saw that my Superior was in danger…_

"…oh. Shit," he said aloud. He wasn't normally one for swearing, but he felt the situation called for it.

_Well, that probably goes on the list of really stupid things I've done,_ he thought ruefully.

_…now everybody knows. They'll all know that I'm—that I'm a monster. All of them will hate me._

_ It was a necessary action in response to a difficult situation!_ protested the side of himself more prone to rash decisions and risk-taking. _Our Superior was in danger and the best way to get him out of it was to transform!_

_ Did you ever consider attacking as a human?_

_ That wouldn't've worked! We're much stronger as a wolf—heavier, too. That Riku looks pretty light-weight, but we definitely wouldn't have the weight or the strength to knock him down as a human._

_ Did you consider that maybe our Superior could have resolved the situation on his own?_

_ He had a knife to his throat! Doesn't this mean anything to you?_

Saïx sighed. Much as he might debate it with himself, he saw no other path that might have succeeded in resolving the situation with both himself and his Superior intact.

He huffed quietly, tugging the blankets up to his nose. He paused, noticing something strange—his Superior's scent. Examining his covers more closely, he discovered a coat tucked gently around him. His Superior's scent permeated the whole of it—it was quite soothing, actually. He yawned and shifted slightly—and froze.

_…how embarrassing…I'd forgotten about that._ He reddened.

_Another set of clothes shredded. I really must try to do better._

Saïx pushed the covers back and sat up, tucking his hair behind his ears.

_Well, I'd best return my Superior's coat to him,_ he thought. After dressing, he folded the coat neatly, taking a moment to inhale once more the scent that clung to it, and set out to return it.

XIII

Saïx knocked cautiously. "Sir?"

"Enter," Xemnas called.

Saïx obeyed. "Sir, I've come to return your coat. I thank you for the use of it." He held the folded garment out a bit nervously.

"Ah, thank you, Number VII," Xemnas said absently, glancing up briefly from the reports he was reading to indicate a free spot on the floor. "Just set it down there, if you please."

Saïx complied, bowed, and turned to go.

"Just a moment, Number VII."

Saïx froze. "Sir?"

"We have one more thing to discuss."

Saïx turned to face the room, pressing his back against the door. Dread pooled in his stomach, making him feel sick. _This is it_, he thought. _This is when my Superior tells me he can't have a monster like me in the Organisation. I'll be kicked out and never see this place or these people again._ The thought almost brought the prickle that meant imminent tears to his eyes—this place and these people had been the only real home he'd had since his parents had left. The thought of losing that—losing everything—was unbearable. "What is it, sir?" Saïx asked, carefully keeping his voice level and blank.

Xemnas coughed. "You, ah. You saved my life."

Well, _that_ was unexpected. "Yes, sir," Saïx answered calmly. "Only my duty as your subordinate."

"Still. My thanks," said Xemnas. "There is…one other matter."

"Sir?"

"I was…unaware that werewolves even existed, much less that you were one," Xemnas began slowly.

"Sir."

"Do you mind explaining to me how this came about?" Xemnas spoke with the air of one choosing their words with exquisite care.

"It…occurred when I was very small—perhaps five or six," Saïx answered. "I had run away—as small children often do—I don't remember the cause. I had found a park to stay in for the night. Unfortunately, it was already…inhabited." He took a deep breath. Even years later, he still disliked remembering those events. "A wolf attacked me—I know now that it was another werewolf—and I was injured. My mother found me the following morning, scolded me for worrying her, took me home, and patched me up. I thought the whole thing was only a bad dream, to be forgotten like any other misadventure." He laughed quietly, bitterly. "Oh, was I ever wrong. The following full moon, I transformed, as I have done every full moon since. When my parents found out—didn't take them long, either—they decided I was too much of a threat to their safety and…left. I can't blame them for it," he added hurriedly. "I _am_ dangerous, a threat to anyone around me. It would probably be best if I just…left the Organisation." Saïx bit his lip, refusing to let the tears fall. _I won't cry. I won't be weak. Not again. Not ever again._

Xemnas frowned. "Why would you think that, Saïx? Dangerous is exactly what is needed, if we are to win against the Heartless. No, no, you can't leave. I won't hear of it."

Saïx was frozen to the spot. "Sir…?" His tone was hesitant, disbelieving.

Xemnas waved a hand. "You may go, Number VII."

Still in a mild state of shock, Saïx bowed and fled.

XIII

Axel watched curiously as Saïx nearly ran down the corridor, then dismissed it and turned to knock on the door. "You said you had a mission for me?"

"Ah, Number VIII. Do come in."

Axel slapped an arrogant grin onto his face and strode in. "So, what's the mission?"

"It is a matter of some delicacy," Xemnas began. "It appears that we have a few traitors in our midst."

"Okay…" Axel said slowly. "How many, who, and what do you expect me to do about it?"

Xemnas ticked points off on his fingers. "Two. Numbers XI and XII. They have been reporting to the Heartless for quite some time, but I only received inarguable proof recently. As for what you are to do about it…" He smiled coldly. "Dispose of them."

Axel straightened from his slouch and his grin twisted into an icy smirk. "Yes, my lord." He bowed mockingly and swept out, his coat flapping dramatically behind him.

XIII

Riku scowled at his spies. "Why was I not informed of—_this_—before now?"

"Sir, we had no idea," answered Marluxia. "There were no clues, no hints—and of course he never told anyone—there was no way for us to—"

"Enough," Riku ordered. He sighed and turned to Larxene. "Did _you_ know anything?"

Larxene frowned. "I…might have," she said hesitantly. "It must've been, what, a year ago…? It was about a month before I joined up with the crazies," by which she meant Organisation XIII. "I'd run away again, and it was raining—I remember that. It was dark, too, so I couldn't see too well, and I ran into someone—found out later it was VII. I, well, I kinda panicked," here she shrugged, "and attacked him. 'Course, he fought back. The fight's a bit of a blur—adrenaline messing with my head, I guess—but one thing I do remember pretty clearly is that VII changed into a wolf about halfway through." She chuckled quietly. "'Course, I thought I was dreaming. Guess I wasn't, really."

Riku nodded slowly, considering her report and filing it away. "It seems this is a stranger world than I thought," he mused. "First ghosts, then dark magic, then werewolves—what's next, vampires?"

Marluxia shuddered. "Not that. Ugh."

"Scared, flower-boy?" Larxene teased.

Marluxia shook his head. "No. Those _books_. Argh."

"Hey, I liked those books!" Larxene protested.

"They were creepy!" argued Marluxia.

"Moving right along…" Riku sighed. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Larxene cleared her throat. "Sorry, sir. Do you have any further orders?"

Riku glanced to the empty space behind his left shoulder. "Ansem? Any suggestions?"

A pause.

"Right, then," Riku continued. "Just keep reporting to me. No special orders. Dismissed."

"Sir," Marluxia and Larxene said in unison, bowing and leaving the park where they always met (Riku didn't quite trust them enough to let them near his base) to return to the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow.

Once they were well on their way, Marluxia sighed. "It seems like we always end up working for crazy people," he lamented. "I'm pretty sure Xemnas is off his rocker—acts like he's some kind of mob boss or mafia capo or something. And this Riku character talks to thin air and expects it to answer back. If that's not crazy, I'm a rose."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were," Larxene snarked. "You're certainly flowery enough."

"Ah, but you're the one with more prickles," Marluxia pointed out. "Perhaps you'd be a thistle—all pain and no reward."

Larxene giggled and punched him in the shoulder. "Then you'd be a dandelion gone to seed—all fluff and no worth."

Marluxia staggered melodramatically. "You wound me!" he cried. "Alack, your prickles have pricked me once more—I _bleed_! Oh, woe!"

Larxene rolled her eyes. "Such drama. And I thought _I_ was the girl here."

Marluxia pretended to consider this. "No—you're far too boyish," he decided. "Not feminine at all."

Playfully, Larxene smacked him. He snickered. Soon, both of them were outright laughing.

When the Warehouse came into view, she cautioned him to be quiet. They eased the back door open, hoping that nobody had noticed their absence.

"Welcome back," drawled a familiar voice. Axel sauntered into view, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Did you have fun on your…little outing?" He smiled, slow and lazy, like a cat that has caught a mouse and has it pinned and helpless.

"You could say that," Larxene said evenly.

Axel sneered. "So, betraying the people who took you in, who gave you a place to return to—that's fun, is it?"

"I never owed you lot anything!" Marluxia snapped. "You pretty much kidnapped me! If anything, I _should_ be plotting against you!"

Axel shrugged. "Not my business. I've just got my orders, which I intend to carry out."

"And what would those orders be?" Larxene asked cautiously.

Axel bared his teeth in what might be called a smile. "I believe the Superior's precise words were, 'Dispose of them.'"

Marluxia's eyes widened.

Axel removed his right hand from his pocket. In it was a switchblade—Larxene recognized it as Riku's old one that he'd lost to the shadows Roxas had wielded. "Terribly sorry about this, you understand," he said coolly. "I don't particularly mind either of you. But orders are orders." He flipped the switchblade open. "Now, I'll offer you a choice: if you surrender now, I'll try to make it quick and painless. If not…" He shrugged. "Well, then not."

Larxene swallowed hard, fear overwhelming all her other thoughts. _I'm going to die._ It felt unreal; she hadn't thought she'd die so young. She'd thought she had at least several decades more. She pulled out her own knives. "Screw you," she spat.

Marluxia unslung his quarterstaff from where it was sheathed on his back. "I'd rather die fighting, thanks all the same," he declared calmly.

"Very well, then," Axel said as he attacked.

XIII

Axel enlisted Xaldin's help in carrying the bodies. They didn't go far—just to an empty lot, where the wind ruffled the dying grass. They dug a hole, five feet by four feet by three feet, lowered the bodies down, and filled it in. Xaldin picked up a rock and laid it carefully at the head of the grave. He scratched _XI, XII_ into it with his knife, then stood back.

"Rest in peace," he murmured.

Axel coughed. "Rest in peace," he whispered, then turned and left, Xaldin trailing behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you like._

_Well, it seems that FFnet's changed their formatting. Bleh, HTML. So bothersome. I hope this turned out all right. I'm not very good with HTML, so if this looks crappy, I blame FFnet for changing their formatting on me. I apologise for spamming your inboxes with this—I had a couple formatting issues._

_Anyway, this chapter was posted October 31, 2011. Happy birthday, L! Happy Halloween, if you celebrate it!_

_I will be participating in NaNoWriMo, so don't expect any updates during the month of November. I do have one more chapter written, but I likely won't have time to type it up, so there will likely be no updates._

_Why yes, every single reference to hearts and "nobody" is intentional and should be thought of that way._

_Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me. A fabulous Days!Riku cosplay does, however, belong to me._

XIII

**Chapter Seven**

_Dark. Rain. Movement. Watching a streetlamp-lit road go by, slick with rain. Going fast. Someone next to me, breathing sounds a bit panicked. Glance over—brown hair, messier than mine, blue eyes, the same as mine. White-knuckled grip on knees._

_"It'll be okay, Sora," I say. Why did I say that? What will be okay? Who's Sora?_

_A smile, tight with nerves and fear. "Yeah." He doesn't believe it, I can tell._

_Then—screeching, and abrupt stopping, and moment of total chaos—_

_When next I open my eyes, the brown-haired boy is lying over me. His sky-blue eyes are closed._

Roxas jerked awake, body twitching briefly then lying still. He stared at the shadowed ceiling, wondering what that dream had been about. It had felt so _real_, and it was still clear and vivid in his mind, unlike all his other dreams, which faded upon awakening, leaving only a faint sense of unease.

"Who is Sora…?" he whispered to the darkness of his room.

It did not reply.

XIII

"Hey, VIII!"

"Hey, II. What's up?"

"Not much. The sky, I guess. How'd your mission go? Y'know, the super-ultra-top-secret one you got from Boss-man?"

"Eh, you know. Just another mission. Fulfilled the objective, disposed of the traitors."

"Ooh, we had traitors?"

A laugh. "Yeah. Couple of 'em."

"Who?"

"Just XI and XII."

A low whistle. "Those two are pretty tough, 'specially XII. You took 'em out?"

"Yup." Smug.

"Man, I'm jealous. You always get the fun missions! I'd've loved to beat up XI. Guy really irritated me."

Another laugh. "You can go dance on his grave if you like—I'll show you where it is."

A chuckle. "Sure thing. Where is it?"

"It's just down a couple blocks…"

Behind the corner, Roxas stood frozen to the spot. Was what he'd just heard the truth? Had Axel really…_killed_ Marluxia and Larxene?

Roxas couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Axel was a nice person! He wouldn't do something like that…right?

It hurt, that Roxas wasn't sure.

XIII

Axel slipped back into the Warehouse That Never Was But Would Hopefully Still Be There Tomorrow via the back door.

"So. Is it true?" Roxas asked coldly.

Axel jumped. "Is what true?"

"That you killed Marluxia and Larxene."

Axel froze in place, his mind working furiously to explain himself. "I…er…orders are orders, you know, and—"

"Just answer the question, Axel," Roxas sighed. "Simple yes or no. Did you kill them?"

"I…" Axel slumped. "Yeah. I did."

Roxas's eyes widened. "Axel—"

"Look, I was under orders," Axel said desperately. "You know how it is—Boss-man gets really angry when he's not obeyed—"

Roxas shook his head, cutting Axel off. "I can't believe you," he whispered. "They were _people_ and you just—killed them!"

"For what it's worth—I'm sorry," Axel offered.

An expression of the deepest betrayal passed over Roxas's face and stuck there, like a fly in a spider's web. "I don't know you anymore." He pushed past Axel and out the door.

"Please—Roxas—don't go," Axel begged, catching Roxas by the arm.

Roxas shook him off. "Why should I stay? I never agreed to hang around you people in the first place—you just kidnapped me! The only reason I stayed so long was because I thought I had a friend here." Roxas bit his lip to prevent his tears from falling. "Evidently, I was wrong."

Axel reeled back like he'd been slapped and Roxas continued stalking away. Axel chased after him. "Roxas—"

Roxas whirled around. "Didn't you hear me, Axel? I have no reason not to go. Besides—no one will miss me." With that, he turned his back and walked away, his black coat flapping behind him.

Though it was mid-afternoon and sunny, Axel almost thought it should be dark and raining. "That's not true," he whispered after Roxas's retreating footsteps. "I miss you already."

XIII

Axel stared blankly at his ceiling. It wasn't terribly interesting to look at, but he needed a place to rest his eyes while he got his thoughts in order.

_"They were _people _and you just—killed them!"_

He hadn't really thought about it. Now, with Roxas's words echoing through his mind, he was forced to consider just what killing two people meant.

_My comrades. I just—snuffed them out. Like candle flames._

He bit his lip, still somehow uncomprehending. They were gone and never coming back, yes—but what did it _mean_?

_Murderer._

He knew the definition of that word, the cold, logical explanation of it, but he didn't quite understand the _meaning_, the messy emotional part of it, how it felt to have someone's blood on your hands.

_I killed them._

There should be some emotion attached to that statement, right? Guilt, or satisfaction, or anger, or something, right?

But he felt nothing. Just empty.

XIII

Roxas strode through the streets, not entirely sure where he was going. Currently, his only objective was _away_—away from the Warehouse, away from the Organisation, away from Axel.

It was hard to believe that their previous fight and reconciliation had taken place only a few days before. So many things had happened, it felt more like weeks.

_Just when I'd forgiven him, he turns around and does something that makes me question whether he was ever honest with me in the first place. I can't—I can't trust him. Not after what he's done._

Roxas bit his lip and tasted blood, forcibly turning his thoughts instead to where he was going to go. Back to the Organisation was laughable. Home to his family was most definitely out. He couldn't just wander the streets aimlessly. Where did that leave? Was there any other place for him to go?

"Damn Axel," he muttered to himself. "Heartless bastard. Being stupid and making me leave so I have no place—" He paused as an idea struck him.

Well, why not? He'd probably be welcome there—they'd already said they wanted him to go with them. And they were the Organisation's enemies, so all the better.

Mind made up, Roxas turned his steps toward the general area that the Heartless base was supposed to be in.

XIII

"No leads," Riku muttered. "No way to persuade him to our side." He threw up his hands. "Useless! Hopeless!"

"Peace," Ansem said calmly. "Things will sort themselves out."

Riku huffed. "You can't know that."

Ansem smiled coldly and draped his arms around Riku's shoulders from behind. "You forget my nature, my dear. I _can_ know that."

Riku shuddered at the chill. "Get off of me. And I am not your _dear_."

Ansem reluctantly unwrapped himself. "Your memory is remarkably faulty today, Riku. You remember our terms, don't you?"

"I remember them too well and regret every word," Riku snapped. "That still doesn't mean—"

He was interrupted when the door opened and one of the lower-ranked Heartless stumbled in. "Sir—" she gasped, "three blocks away—that kid from the Organisation, the blonde one—Sora's brother—"

"Which direction?" Riku asked sharply, standing from his chair.

"East," the Heartless stammered.

Riku was out the door in a heartbeat.

XIII

Roxas was not difficult to find. He was perched on the edge of the kerb with his arms around his knees, staring blankly into space. Riku approached cautiously, as one might approach a wild creature that might bite or flee.

"Hey," he greeted softly.

Roxas did not look up at him. "Hey yourself."

"Any reason you're out in this part of town? On a mission for Organisation XIII?" Riku asked, phrasing his questions carefully.

"I _left_ Organisation XIII," Roxas said flatly. "I was looking for you, actually."

Riku was perplexed. Hadn't Roxas said only a week before that he didn't want anything to do with Riku or the Heartless? "Why?"

"Nowhere else to go." Roxas laughed bitterly. "I was hoping I could stay with you—in exchange for information on the Organisation, if you like."

"That won't be necessary," Riku said coolly. "You can stay with us for as long as you need to."

Roxas got to his feet. "Promise me this," he said steadily. "If the Organisation asks you where I am—don't tell them. Please."

Riku smiled—the idea had never even crossed his mind. "Of course I won't." He offered his hand.

Roxas took it and shook. "All right then. Where to?"

"Back to the base, first," said Riku, turning in the appropriate direction and beginning to walk, not bothering to glance back and see that Roxas was following. "Then home to your family."

Roxas scowled. "I don't want to go back to my family. I don't know them and I don't want to feel like I should."

"All right," Riku said agreeably. "You'll stay at the base, then." After all, if what Roxas had said was true, Riku had plenty of time to convince him to go home.

"Thanks," Roxas muttered grudgingly. There was a strong undercurrent of _I'm not saying this because I want to; it's just that it's the sort of thing that's said in this kind of situation_ to his tone.

"No problem," said Riku, just to annoy Roxas.

"I told you things would sort themselves out," gloated Ansem.

_Well, one problem_, Riku conceded, glancing at Ansem. _But I can deal with that._


	8. Chapter 8

_This is the author, talking about her story. You can ignore this bit if you like._

_Not much happens in this chapter, but Kairi shows up! I hope I haven't mangled her character too horribly, or the characters of anyone else. Tell me if I did so I can fix it, please. Also inform me if there is something about the setting or happenings that seems illogical to you, but I warn you: the characters don't necessarily operate by logic. __Speaking of characters and logic, Roxas and I do not share opinions on various things, such as Axel's awesomeness. Speaking of Axel, there is a disappointing lack of him this chapter, but I think he and the rest of the Organisation will show up…sometime soon, I think. I never can estimate how much happens in one chapter._

_This chapter was posted November 11, 2011, or 11/11/11. I know I said there would be no updates during NaNoWriMo, but I had the chapter written and all I had to do was type it up, so here you go._

_All these characters are not mine; I merely borrow them and return them all busted up._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

After staying with the Heartless for several weeks, Roxas was finally persuaded to at least visit his family. However, he refused all help from Riku and only grudgingly accepted the bit of paper with directions on it in neat, loopy handwriting. He did his best to follow those directions, but somehow ended up somewhere that looked nothing like a residential district. He flipped the bit of paper over to see if there were further instructions, but saw only—a phone number? Curious, Roxas made his way to the nearest pay phone, fished a few of the quarters Riku had given him out of his pocket, and dialed. The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Hello?" The voice was feminine, probably younger than Roxas.

"Hello?" Roxas greeted cautiously.

There was a high-pitched squeal. "Roxas!" Slightly more distantly, as if the speaker had taken the receiver away to yell to someone else in the house, "Kairi! Roxas is on the phone!" A brief clatter, then someone else spoke.

"Roxas? Is that you?" Slightly breathless, as if the speaker had run to get the phone. "It's Kairi."

"Kairi…? Yeah, it's me," Roxas answered. "I'm lost and can't figure out how to get home."

Kairi chuckled. "Lost is right. Where are you now?"/P

Roxas glanced around for street signs. "The corner of 115th and Addition."

Kairi whistled. "You're pretty far off track. I can direct you to my house, if you'd like."

"Great, thanks," Roxas said absently.

"Okay," said Kairi. "Commit this to memory: east on Addition until you hit 67th, then turn left…"

Roxas listened carefully as Kairi rattled off a long, fairly complicated set of directions.

"Have you got it memorised?" she finished.

The phrase sent a pang through Roxas's heart. Even now, far away from Axel in both space and time, Roxas could not escape his shadow. "Yeah, I think so," he answered. "Run that by me one more time?"

Kairi repeated the directions. "Are you going to be okay getting over here, or do I need to ask my aunt to go pick you up?"

"I'll be fine," said Roxas. _And I have to believe that. I'll be just fine._

XIII

When Roxas finally arrived at Kairi's front door, he was exhausted. He rang the doorbell weakly, wanting nothing more than to fall down and sleep.

The door was opened by a little blonde girl, perhaps seven years old. She stared at Roxas for a moment, then attacked him with a hug and the same high-pitched squeal he'd heard over the phone.

Roxas staggered. "Get off me!"

"Selphie, don't traumatise the poor dear," came a commanding, unfamiliar voice. Another blonde girl, this one perhaps Roxas's age and wearing a white dress, appeared at the door. "Hello. You must be Roxas." She smiled at him.

"Yeah," Roxas answered, trying to pry Selphie off. "And you are…?"

"Kairi's cousin Naminé. Selphie's my little sister." Turning towards the house, she called, "Kairi! Roxas is here!" She turned back and scowled at her sister. "Selphie."

Reluctantly, Selphie let go of Roxas and trotted back into the house. "Meanie-pants," she muttered, sticking her tongue out at Naminé.

"Come on inside," Naminé invited, standing aside. Roxas entered, glancing around at the entrance hall. It was plain, the floor linoleum and the walls white. "Shoes off," Naminé reminded him. A bit perplexed by the command (neither the Organisation nor the Heartless enforced such a rule), Roxas obeyed.

At that moment, Kairi rounded the corner from the hallway. "Hey, Roxas," she greeted pleasantly.

"Hello, Kairi," Roxas answered, a bit awkwardly.

"You remember me, right?" she said, her tone encouraging but with a touch of anxiety. "I came to visit you and Sora."

"Oh—yeah, I remember you. You came with your…mother?" Roxas said, a bit unsure.

Kairi shook her head. "No, Aerith's my aunt. My mom's been dead for a couple years now."

"I'm sorry," Roxas said awkwardly, staring at his sock-covered feet.

Kairi smiled brightly. "Don't be. I've got plenty of family—Naminé and Selphie are like the sisters I never had, and Aunt Aerith's motherly enough for three people."

Roxas returned her smile hesitantly. "That sounds—nice."

"That reminds me," said Kairi, taking Roxas by the hand, dragging him to what he assumed to be the living room, and dropping him on the couch. "Where have you _been_ all these weeks? I know you weren't with Riku, 'cause he would've told us, and you weren't with your family, and you weren't at the hospital—so where _were_ you?"

"Around," Roxas answered vaguely, stifling a yawn. "Somewhere safe." _Although I'm not sure, now, just how safe the Organisation was…_

Noticing his yawn, Kairi's inquisitive gaze softened. "You must be exhausted, walking all the way here. You can kip on the sofa for tonight. I'll get you a blanket."

"Thank you, Kairi," Roxas murmured automatically, already curling up with his head on the armrest of the couch. "For everything."

When Kairi returned a minute later with a blanket, he was fast asleep. She tucked him in, then bid him a quiet goodnight and went to bed.

XIII

When Roxas awoke the following morning, his memories of the previous night were hazy with exhaustion, but one thing he remembered clearly was red hair—bright, fiery red hair. He almost thought that he'd returned to the Organisation—and then his memories came rushing back.

_Kairi. Not Axel. Her house, not the Warehouse. A normal family, not the Organisation._

A few tears slipped from his eyes and ran sideways down his face (he was lying on his side). He abruptly felt very homesick from the plain rooms of the Warehouse, the chatter of the other members, and—

_Axel. I think—I miss him most of all._

Roxas was trying to forget Axel—after all, Larxene and Marluxia had _died_ by the redhead's hands, and that was not usually the sort of person one wanted to associate with—but he was finding it utterly impossible. It was almost funny when compared to the way he'd lost all of his memories not too long ago—he could lose his whole life in an instant, but he couldn't forget one person.

"Axel…" he whispered.

_You always used to ask it I'd got it memorised. It looks like I have—you're unforgettable, Axel, even if I wish you weren't._

"Who's Axel?" asked Selphie from the corner of the divider between the kitchen and the living room.

"He…we used to be friends," Roxas said distantly.

"You sound like you miss him," observed Selphie.

Roxas exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

"So why don't you go visit him?" asked Selphie.

Roxas paused. "He…did a very bad thing," he said, trying to make it so the seven-year-old would understand.

Selphie nodded sagely. "Like when I pull Nami's hair, my mom and dad won't let me visit my friends."

"A little like that," Roxas allowed. "But…this is different. I don't think I can trust him anymore."

"Did he do something to hurt you?" Selphie asked, tilting her head to one side in childish curiosity.

"It didn't hurt _me,_ exactly," said Roxas. "But it hurt two people who were…close to both of us."

"Did he have a reason for what he did or not?" asked Selphie. "Like, did they take his toys while he was still playing with them or something? 'Cause if I explain things good to mom and dad, sometimes less bad things happen."

Roxas hesitated before answering. "He…said he had a reason."

"What was it?" Selphie perched on the end of the couch not quite occupied by Roxas's feet.

Roxas shrugged. "He said he was 'just following orders'."

"Then it sounds like the bad thing he did was the person who told him's fault," Selphie reasoned. "If he was told to do it and he had to do what he was told, then it's not really his fault, is it?"

Roxas laughed quietly. "You make a lot of sense for someone seven years old."

Selphie puffed herself up with indignation. "I'm not seven! I'm seven and a half!"

At that moment, a woman unfamiliar to Roxas entered the kitchen. She had long brown hair, which she was tying back with a pink ribbon, and warm blue eyes. "Good morning, Roxas," she said calmly. "Kairi told me you'd be staying the night. Do you want breakfast? My name's Aerith, by the way—I'm Kairi's aunt."

Roxas stood. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am," he said politely. "Breakfast would be—fantastic. Thank you."

Aerith smiled at him. "It's no difficulty, dear. And call me Aerith, please. We're lucky it's summer break—none of the girls have school, so Kairi can escort you home later." She turned to the cupboards around the kitchen and started taking things off shelves. "Your mother's been worried sick, dear," she called. "Your father, too."

"I'm sorry," Roxas muttered, finding the carpet fascinating all of a sudden.

"Tell that to them, not me," Aerith reminded him. "Selphie, dear, could you come help me stir this?"

Selphie jumped off the couch and ran over to help her mother. "What are you making?"

Aerith smiled at her daughter. "Pancakes."

Just then, a blond man with hair almost as crazy as Roxas's came stumbling into the room, his eyes half-shut with sleep. "I heard pancakes," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Aerith's waist from behind. "Good morning, love."

Selphie mock-gagged.

Aerith turned in the man's arms and smiled up at him. "Good morning, Cloud darling. As food-oriented as ever, aren't you?"

Cloud grinned at her. "I have to make sure I've got enough fuel for the day," he joked. "Delivering stuff's hard work, you know." He glanced over at the living room, where Roxas was still standing awkwardly. "Morning, Roxas," he said amiably. "You remember me?"

Mutely, Roxas shook his head.

"I'm Cloud, Aerith's husband," he introduced himself, letting go of Aerith to pick Selphie up, "and father of this here terror."

Selphie shrieked. "Papa, put me down! I'm a big girl now!"

Cloud complied, putting the girl back on the step-stool she'd been standing on to reach the counter.

Kairi bounced in next, full of energy and, in Roxas's opinion, far too cheerful for any hour before noon. "I heard screaming."

"Just me," Selphie said brightly.

Kairi glanced over her cousin for any sort of wound and, finding none, shrugged and dismissed the matter. "What's for breakfast, Aunt Aerith?"

"Pancakes," said Aerith.

Roxas watched the scene of happy domesticity in bemusement, feeling a bit like an intruder looking in. He remembered no such scenes from his own family—there was no doubt that they had happened, but he just couldn't remember them—and the Organisation had never been very family-like in the first place (apart from the constant bickering). The family before him seemed very happy, and he wondered if his own family would be so happy. He hoped so.


End file.
